


Bleeding Sun

by MayLovelies



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Abuse, Emotional Trauma, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Other, frienship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:34:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayLovelies/pseuds/MayLovelies
Summary: In his drunken rages, Turgon can’t quite tell the difference between Maeglin and the elf who killed his sister, resulting in him physically lashing out at his nephew. Meanwhile, day after day Glorfindel realizes the changes in Maeglin, both physically and emotionally and despite Maeglin’s lies, Glorfindel investigates, and finds out the horrifying truth for himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was gonna be a headcanon but…I wanted to post it as a fic. Anyway, rant is below kind of. There’s been some things getting me angry. Ans as for this story, I think it’s gonna be short maybe 3-5 chapters. I don’t want it to be too long. Especially since the fic I’m working on “Consequences of Truth” I project to be sorta long! Anyway, without further aiedu…let’s continue…..
> 
> Oh! Also, I do have a tumblr it's [maylovely](http://maylovely.tumblr.com/)

Maeglin had only seen a fire so bright once. And that was in the eyes of his father, for he never did he forget the glare Eöl bore upon him when he expressed his longing to see the sons of Feanor.

Yet, this time, sitting across the table with his uncle Turgon, king of Gondolin, things were different. The fire burned as bright, but darker, with intentions that brought Maeglin fear. Perhaps it was the fact that Turgon had too much to drink, that made him say these words and spit out such painful accusations.

But Maeglin could not be sure. For even in his drunken states, Turgon was merry with his men. Unless in private it seemed now.

So in silence, as the tempest brewed before him, Maeglin ate. Not at all excusing himself, yet watching as his uncle’s temper grew, only expecting the worst.

“ _You…you…took her from me. You and your dark elven father_.” He spat, in a mess of slurs and an influx of the bitter smell of alcohol.

Maeglin took a breath and prepared to speak. For while the words wounded him deeply, he was aware his uncle was under the influence. He would let this slide, like he had already so many times this evening.

“Uncle…it was not my intention for your sister to die…If I could, I would jump in front of the weapon myself. I would rather it pierce me, than my mother…I miss her too—”

 _“It was your scheme…you wished for it to happen!”_ Turgon’s voice grew now, and from across the dining table, he stood. The servants remaining in the hall were visibly nervous, as one by one, sensing the turn in their king, made way to excuse themselves.

As they vanished simultaneously, Maeglin felt more and more alone. For he realized now that the drunken king began to pace back and forth, muttering to himself in an old dialect of Quenya that Maeglin could not quite comprehend.

He caught some words of distress, some slurs thrown his way, but reluctant he was to excuse himself for he feared what anger would arise in Turgon if he did so. 

Yet, finding courage, he spoke. “Uncle…I believe the wine has taken over you. Please, you must rest…perhaps a servant can call for Idril and—”

Turgon responded faster than Maeglin was ready for. Angrily swiping a goblet off the table and going into a fit of rage and yells. Maeglin sat up in his seat, flinching at the shouts and the countless items being thrown. For the first time in ages, he’d been rendered completely helpless in the company of a parental figure acting out in such a threatening way.

Though his body rendered him motionless, he sought to leave, yet the exit was right past his uncle, who had already destroyed most of the table. Maeglin half hoped he was distracted and half hoped he was fast enough, for if his uncle detected the slightest move then that would be it for him.

Unluckily for Maeglin, he should have been more discrete when standing, for the second he did so and his chair made a noise, Turgon had hurled a glass Maeglin’s way. 

Not only did it break against Maeglin’s head, but it caused him to stumble backward, nearly causing his step.

“Un…uncle…I…” Now, as Maeglin regained his balance, Turgon stood above him and struck and this knocked him off of his feet. He hit the ground, his head making contact with the cold stone. There was a buzz that drowned out the sound of Turgon’s shouts, but the kicks and punches one after another, found him no ease.

Once or twice Maeglin thought to strike back, but only wondered the repercussion that would come his way if he marked the king. So he took the beatings until no more, could he stay awake.

OoOoOoOo

The next morning, there was a shrilling scream, and in pain, the young elf opened his eyes.

From his clouded vision, stood a fair maiden of golden hair, and she wore a glimmering gown belonging to that of the house of Golden Flower. Around her stood her maids. He remembered vaguely that her house would grant Turgon a visit on diplomatic matters; it was no wonder she was here.

“We must seek out a Lord! My Lord Glorfindel is nearby—fetch him!” She commanded. Yet before they scurried, Maeglin forced himself to his feet, unaware of how damaged he looked. As he stood, the women grew silent.

“You must not child—you are weak. Who has hurt you so?” As she approached, Maeglin lost his footing. His head ached and his vision grew blurry. Yet when he fell, he was caught, and once again he found himself at the mercy of another. He only prayed she was more kind to him than his own kin.

And near hours later, when he woke, still throbbing yet in his own bed, he was shocked to discover that no doubt, she was kind. For at the door she stood in silence, her eyes widening as she saw the prince open his.

“You are well, Prince Maeglin?” She managed, inclining slightly.

“That I am.”

“Then I must ask, who has done such a thing? Is it another jealous Lord? You must tell me—”

“It way my uncle…Turgon…” He gazed at her, as if he regretted the revelation instantly. “You must tell no one. Swear to me, for the hope of this kingdom, that you will not.”

Betraying all her morals, she found herself agreeing. For he glared at her and she stiffened. For it was not  glare of anger, yet great sadness that she had never felt. So gently she inclined, left and joined the rest of her house.

Maeglin said nothing; only stared at his ceiling, attempting to find the strength to stand.

OoOoOoOoO

Later that night, within the castle, a meeting of sorts took place, and all Lords of the Golden Flower sat attentively until the meeting was dismissed.

Glorfindel their head, had been in his own thoughts, zoning out more than often. He answered of course and made suggestions to Turgon as always.Yet, something about that night caught Glorfindel off guard. A feeling he could not yet explain but brought him great distress.

As the meeting cleared, he found himself wondering about the castle. He pondered on finding the Ladies of his house, and announcing the end of the meeting yet he decided against it. They’d figure out eventually. For now, he needed to be by himself.

Yet loneliness was not his that night as down that dark corridor, a figure emerged from the shadows holding a dimly lit candle. As he grew closer, Glorfindel realized it was Maeglin. It suddenly clicked to him, that the prince was not at the gathering and he wondered why. His question was partially answered when Maeglin appeared to have various bruises and marks on his face, as if he had gotten in to some type of altercation.

“My word, Prince Maeglin, is all well? You are injured!”

“A simple mining accident.” Maeglin responded. “I apologize for not being present tonight, I was not in best health. Though I wish to find some food in the dining hall…is the king still present?”

“Yes, he is.” Glorfidnel replied, raising an eyebrow. “Is there a reason as to why you must know.”

“There is none.” Maeglin, so he could not falter, bowed. “Forgive my disturbance, but I must retire again. Food can wait. Good night, Lord Glorfndel.” He turned away and vanished into the darkness, leaving Glorfindel puzzled.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I just want more Maeglin stuff!  
> This week has been a bad week for Maeglin fans I feel . Like, I really wanted to talk about it on my blog but I’m too nervous to even do that. Fact of that matter is that we know that Maeglin isn’t innocent, we know that he’s done a lot of things wrong, but we as his fans don’t always like to ponder on his negative traits. We like to explore his whole character and people are getting upset? Literally, there’s an influx of people saying things like “you can like maeglin but remember he’s evil” or “maeglin is an evil creep” like it’s upsetting and as his fan it’s awful to have to go into his tag and people blasting all the bad things he did. Like I wanna go into Maeglin’s tag to see positivity, not people constantly reminding us that Maeglin is “evil”, as they say. Like yes we know he isn’t the best character, but I just hate the fact that people get pissed at us for focusing on his complexity outside of the whole Gondolin incident. Anyway, sorry…I just wanted to get this out. The weekend was terrible for Maeglin, so is this week so far. People can like or dislike him that’s fine, but I wish people wouldn’t try to make those who DO like him feel guilty, and get pissed when we lash out…I'm sorry if this is childish, but I've just wanted to get this out!  
> ALSO, to combat hate, I am making a Maeglin Appreciation week, so if you are interested, just stay tuned, if you've got any suggestions for prompts, let me know! BUT otherwise, i feel this needs to be a thing. Anyway, until next time!


End file.
